


Romano x Reader: Ocean Waves

by HyunYoh



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Food, Gen, Humor, Modern Era, Reader-Insert, Restaurants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 08:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6277537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyunYoh/pseuds/HyunYoh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reader has just moved to a new house on the Italian island of Sicily, which has been a longtime dream of hers. She's an author who has never been in a relationship before and she's never looked for one either. She's moved to Sicily for herself and herself alone, and the island is full of inspiration for her with its wonderful nature and incredible scenery. All of this was just as she expected. What she didn't expect though, was to meet a certain Italian man who would come to greatly influence her in many ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Romano x Reader: Ocean Waves

The sun was high in the sky when you arrived at your destination. You almost couldn't believe that it was real, but there you were with your bags and loads and loads of crates with your personal belongings, and a large truck behind you that had carried your boxes to this new country. You stood outside the new house that was to be your home and you couldn't wait to start unpacking to officially declare this house as yours.

It was a beautiful house by the sea on the coast of Sicily, and it had a beautiful view of the ocean from the hill it was built on. It had pristine white walls and warm brown tiles for the roof. All of the window frames had rounded edges and were coloured in a warm brown. Everything about the house seemed to radiate a Mediterranean vibe and that was exactly what you wanted. There was even a garden big enough for a few plants, and you also spotted an orange tree sticking out in the back.

The location was great and the house was well kept. You had been lucky to get it at the price you did and you had been lucky to even get it at all, making you feel even prouder of yourself to actually be standing there.

You took a deep breath of fresh air, then adjusted your backpack and called for the workmen to help you move all of your boxes into the picturesque villa. They also helped you get some of the larger pieces of furniture out of their boxes and placed where you wanted them. After that you paid them and sent them on their way, confident that you would be able to take care of the rest on your own.

With your bed, desk, bookcases and couch in place you had what you needed to be able to stay in the house while you messed with the rest of your furniture, so you decided that after organizing your boxes you would take a walk around the town to familiarize yourself with the city, and perhaps also grab a bite while you were out.

You didn't bother putting any special clothes on and left your house in only your sandals, a pair of tan shorts, an opened white button-up shirt with a mocha coloured tank top underneath. On your wrist you wore a worn plaited bracelet and an old watch, while around your neck rested a simple chain with a small key hanging off it.

You slung your bag over your shoulder and headed down the hill that your house was situated on. From there you walked into town, briefly noting in your head that you should try to replace your old bike as soon as possible.

In your head you could just imagine how nice it would feel to have the wind in your hair as you biked along the coastline in town on a sunny day, with the ocean on one side and the town on the other. Yeah, that would be really nice.

Taking your sweet time in town you checked out where the nearest supermarket was, which shops looked nice, how to get to the beach, what the beach offered, and the like.

There were a lot of street markets along the streets and alleyways, all of which looked very inviting and you stopped by a few of them to look at the items, before deciding to come back at a later date to fully explore them all.

By the time your stomach started complaining about the lack of food, you checked your watch and realized it was just past 5 PM. You figured you might as well pop in somewhere to eat. Walking around for a bit more, it took you about 30 minutes to find a restaurant that spoke to you.

It was a little corner restaurant with a pleasant front and seemed to have a very cozy interior. There was a nice mix of warm and neutral colours used to decorate the place and the lighting was used expertly to give a very homey feel, and a few people were already sitting inside. A couple of waiters moved about the place seeing the guests' needs and so on and so forth.

Deciding to eat at this restaurant, you entered the building and walked up to the counter to look at the menu. You were greeted by one of the workers and then took a look at the menu behind them. Seeing that there were plenty of options to choose from you found yourself having a hard time choosing what you wanted.

In the end though you went with a serving of _Pasta alla Norma_ , a pasta dish with tomatoes, fried aubergine, grated _ricotta salata_ cheese, and basil, with a glass of carbonated water for the main meal, and a serving of _cannoli_ along with a cup of coffee for dessert.

You noticed a small table near a window and decided to sit there. With that goal in mind you swiftly moved over there and sat down. You hung your bag over the back of your chair and waited patiently for your food to arrive.

You spent the few minutes jotting down a few lines for your latest book in your notebook. The environment around you seemed to be very stimulating for your creativity, and by the time the waiter arrived with your food, you had already scribbled down almost two pages.

The waiter walked up and fairly rudely set the plates onto the table, making you jump since you didn't expect him, nor did you expect him to be so forceful in his approach. You looked up at him and came face to face with an irritable Italian waiter. He was obviously not one for putting on a façade, even for his customers, as his face was set in a scowl, and his lips were set in a firm line.

       “Is there any other shit I can get you?” he asked gruffly.

You raised a brow at his attitude, but decided not to comment on it. Sure, rude he was, but he seemed like an interesting character. Maybe you could weave in a character based on him in your book?

As you were debating this in your mind, the waiter in question grew tense and tapped his foot impatiently and kept glancing towards the other waiters in the restaurant. He observed them as they went about their work, and every time they felt his eyes on them they tensed up a little, as if they were afraid of making a mistake under his watch.

       “Hey, I asked you a fucking question, tourist girl!”

Somehow his frown deepened, and despite his irritated tone of voice you weren't bothered at all by it. Instead your writer's curiosity kicked in and you just smiled mysteriously as you stared at him.

       “I heard you. I'm fine for now, thank you,” you replied to his previous statement and earlier question.

His reaction was to roll his eyes with a sigh, grumbling about how you were a strange girl before turning on his heel and heading back to the counter.

You watched him walk back, and putting your pencil down, you turned your focus to your food. The aroma of the food was mouth watering and the composition of the plate made it look incredibly tempting. The colours were attractive, the aubergine was perfectly cooked and glistening.

Your fork easily pierced the pasta and the moment you brought it to your mouth your taste buds were overwhelmed by the incredible textures and flavours in that one bite. It was quite delectable. The taste even inspired you to write down a few more ideas for your book in your notepad.

For as long as you could remember you had always been weird like that. If people didn't see you with a pen in your hand, then you constantly had your nose stuck in a book. It had been obvious to everyone you knew that you would end up as a writer one day, and there you were now – a working author, with more than a few books under your belt, and living your dream out on the beautiful island of Sicily. Your life couldn't be better.

There was only one thing that could make your life basically perfect. That would be if your mother could stop telling you that it was about time that you found someone that could support you both financially and emotionally. Even though you were in your late 20's already and had accumulated a fair amount of royalties from your books, that had proven very popular, she didn't let up on the topic. This was something you had brought up to her time and time again, but she never seemed to listen.

You loved your mother to death, but sometimes it did feel like she didn't quite trust you to take care of yourself. Every time you called or emailed her, she would first praise you for your success, but then she would ask when she would get to see a ring on your left hand.

Shaking your head you looked down onto your left hand, which was void of a ring, and you highly doubted that there would be one any time soon. You weren't exactly out looking for a guy. You were more the type to admire a guy's character and then use that as a basis for a character in your books, and you didn't really feel bad about it either. This was how you preferred it. You liked dreaming up romance rather than experience it firsthand for yourself.

After you had finished your meal and had moved on to sip your coffee at a leisure pace, the rude waiter, that had served you earlier, came up to your table to clear it of the empty plates. You thanked him, offering him a look and a pleasant smile before turning your gaze back to look out the window and out over the sea.

The restaurant had a superb view of the ocean and you understood why it had gotten it's name – _Onde del Mare_. Ocean Waves. It was truly fitting for a diner with a view such as this, that it offered to its guests.

You sat in that little diner for ages, watching the sun go down over the horizon and seeing its light gleam on the water. The glittering waves gave you quite the inspiration for what kind of cover you wanted for you upcoming novel. There were several ideas in your head that you wanted to discuss with your editor as soon as possible.

Over the course of your sitting there you had ordered one or two more cups of coffee before deciding it was about time for you to head back to your new home. You asked for the check and paid for your food, even giving the waiter a good tip for his services.

This act left both him and other workers a little stumped as they watched you leave the building. They weren't used to people giving this rude waiter such a good tip after the kind of behaviour he had shown. Of course, they weren't going to complain, but they did wonder what kind of a strange woman had walked in on them that day.

Even more dumbfounded were they the next day when you entered the diner once more, this time during the lunch hours, and again you arrived alone. This time your ordered a plate of _Cassatelle alla Trapanese_ , which were soft crescents of dough filled with sweet sheep milk, ricotta, and chocolate chips.

Again, you sat down at the same table by the window, and again equipped with both a pencil and a notepad, ready to scribble down any kind of random idea that might pop into your mind.

The same waiter from before served you your order, with the same kind of attitude from the day before, which and again you only responded to with a smile and pleasantries. You found his behaviour to be rather entertaining and interesting to watch. He wasn't your typical waiter, that was for sure.

       “Anything more I can fucking get you today, tourist girl?” he asked, already tapping his foot as if he was on edge.

You felt tempted to laugh, but held it in. You noticed that he had this odd curl sticking out of his hair to his right. It had crumpled up, seemingly in annoyance, and bobbed up and down with in time with his incessant tapping.

       “A large coffee would be nice, please,” you replied smoothly.  
He whipped out his notepad and wrote that down. “Milk, sugar or black?”  
       “Hm... With milk, please,” you decided, after tapping your chin with the butt of your pencil to think for a short moment.  
       “One large coffee with milk coming right the fuck up,” he said once he was done writing that down. “I'll be right back, so don't go anywhere, dammit!”

His gruff attitude, which you were sure scared away a lot of customers, only served to amuse you. This in turn only caused the employees at the diner to look at you funnily, but you were used to that. You probably looked at a lot of people like that when you observed them in order to study their interactions for references in future works.

A different waiter returned to your table with your coffee. You thanked him when he set your mug down and he nodded wordlessly before walking away to return to his job.

Once again you sat there with your coffee mug and stared out the window watching the waves come rolling in from the sea, while absentmindedly scribbling down some notes here and there in your nearly filled notebook.

Your head had plunged into the deep ocean of creativity and you were swimming in ideas for your next novel. It would feature a young man with a sharp tongue, heavily influenced by the young waiter you had encountered, but with a passion for exploring the depths of sea around his home town.

In your head you had his entire personality figured out and most of his background mapped out too. He used to be skeptical towards the sea, but was once accidentally pushed into the water from a pier and when he opened his eyes underwater he had been amazed by the sight that the clear water offered him. Ever since then he had been incredibly fascinated by the life under the surface.

Before diving any deeper into your mind, you resurfaced, and renewed your grip on your pencil, then before you knew it you were scribbling away again, completely engrossed in your work and completely blind to the outside world. You were so looking forward to going home to refine this draft in the comfy atmosphere of your new home.

You didn't even notice that you had run out of coffee until one of the waiters approached you and asked you if you wanted a refill. Though, not wanting to be interrupted at the moment you just nodded your head and mumbled a distracted “please” to him.

This ended up becoming routine for you during the first month in Sicily. You would come to  _Onde del Mare_ with your stuff, sometimes with laptop and sometimes without, you would order something from the menu and a hot beverage, be it tea, coffee or hot chocolate. After this you would sit down at your usual spot which ended up unofficially becoming your seat.

You would exchange small conversations with the staff and you would come to find out that the rude waiter was actually the owner of the place and his name was Lovino Vargas. A name with a good flow to it in your opinion, but you didn't give it any more real thought.

The employees grew accustomed to you and they were all friendly, except for Lovino, himself, who never seemed to have a good day. However, the workers told you that he was always like that and it wasn't anything personal. To this you had only shrugged and responded that you weren't exactly offended.

Now, there you were, finally able to take a break from your book, because just earlier that morning, after pulling an all-nighter, you sent in the last chapter to your editor. You loved writing and for some reason the more stress you got the more you thrived. This was your life and you wouldn't trade it for anything.

However this particular day, you decided to take your, recently bought, bike into town to just sit back and enjoy the nature of the Sicilian town, that you had been living in for a month now. Sitting in your favourite seat, in your favourite diner, you were at peace and when your order of Sicilian _cannoli_ arrived, everything would be perfect.

Lovino was the one bringing your order this time, but unlike previous times, this time he sat down in the chair opposite of you. This caused you to raise a curious brow silently questioning the reason why.

       “I hear you're the owner of this lovely little place, Mr. Vargas,” you began, inviting him to have a conversation with you.

Lovino leant back in his chair a little bit, making himself comfortable. He was probably taking break and decided to have a chat with one of his new regulars you figured. You had seen him talk to other customers before, though it had it only been short conversations and not very lengthy ones. It appeared that it was your turn to talk to the big boss of the place, so to speak.

       “And I heard you were the one who moved into that fancy house up on that fucking hill,” he retorted. “Can't keep calling you tourist girl anymore, hm?”  
       “Not that I ever really cared about what you call me.” You smiled as you said that.  
He rolled his eyes in return. “I can tell. You didn't even fucking react the first time we met. I thought something was seriously wrong with your damn head.” He maintained a rude tone, but as you had already proven, you weren't easy to turn away.  
       “It's nice to see that you're not afraid to be yourself in front of people, even the guests of your restaurant, Mr. Vargas.”  
Lovino crossed his arms over his chest, getting more comfortable in his seat. “And you confuse me more and more by the fucking minute, you crazy woman,” he shot back.

He had difficulty understanding you. You certainly weren't like other girls who would have yelled or screamed at him for his behaviour. You were definitely more to the eccentric side of the spectrum, always with a notebook and a pencil in your hand, which, he had noticed you hadn't brought with you that day. Those were two items he had never seen you without, all the times he had seen you in his restaurant, at least until then.

       “From one damn point to another. You didn't bring your usual shit with you today,” he pointed out.  
       “Yeah, I left my stuff at home today. I decided to take a day off from work.”

Now this got him curious. What kind of work could an strange woman like you have? Were you perhaps one of those damn annoying journalists or reporters? No, you didn't look like one, and you didn't act like one either. If you were one of those you wouldn't be frequenting his place everyday. Instead you would be out there looking for scoops.

You could see him thinking to himself what your occupation was, and decided to answer before the question was asked.

       “I’m an author and I just finished my latest novel,” you said simply.  
Getting caught off-guard Lovino looked at you with a frown. “I didn't fucking ask anything.”  
       “I know, but I could see it on your face that you were about to ask and just answered it for you.” You kept a chipper tone and never dropped your light smile.

This Mediterranean island had definitely been good for both your inspiration and your mood. The sun always made you feel energized and relaxed at the same time, as confusing as that might sound. The scenery around you would help spark ideas and always got into a writing mood, then, usually, before you knew it, you had written several chapters.

Lovino, himself, had also been a large benefactor. Not only did he inspire the main protagonist, but his personality helped to give you energy to keep writing. It was very stimulating for your creativity to watch him go about his work every day.

       “And thanks to you, I finished this one in record time. My editor has been very pleased with me this month.”

Again, he was caught off-guard by your point-blank statements. How could you just sit there and blurt out something like that without any kind of change to your tone or facial expression. You just sat there smiling, like you'd just complimented about the food.

       “How is this so? I haven’t done a damn thing. Hell, this the first damn time we've fucking spoken properly.”  
       “Let’s just say that I find your personality very interesting, Mr. Vargas. You might not always rub people the right way, but unconsciously you've managed to keep my creativity going on full speed for a full month straight. You have my compliments. You've definitely piqued my interest.”

There was that mysterious, almost catlike, smile again. Just what was up with this woman? You just seemed to blurt out whatever you wanted, without any thought for consequences. You kind of reminded Lovino of himself in that aspect and he wasn't sure if that was good thing or not.

Lovino shook his head, and decided trying to figure all that out on the first day was a lost cause. He hadn't been able to figure anything out about you during the many days you had showed up during the past month, so he sure as hell wasn't going to figure you out during this one conversation. However, _his_ interest was definitely piqued, and he felt a certain need to know more about this strange woman that had wandered into his sea-side restaurant one month prior. Things could only get more interesting from there.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally intended to be written for the Two Week's Theme for the group Passionate-About-Art on deviantArt, of which I'm a contributor to, however, I just barely missed the deadline. The theme that it was meant to be entered for was "The Ocean", so I tried to incorporate it subtly by using it as a scene-setter rather than using it as a main theme for the story.
> 
> It was inspired by me re-watching a playthrough of _Tales of Vesperia_ where the characters discussed the potential appeal of a rude waiter and the sentences they threw around got me thinking of Romano. A lot. Ex. _"What the hell can I get you?"_ , _"Eat this, you idiot!"_ and the like. XD
> 
> It's really nice to be writing for Romano. It's so easy and comfortable to write for him. :) And for those who wonder about the other waiter that served the Reader, is not one of importance. He was just a random other Italian working at the restaurant.
> 
> This has been proofread by some of my proofreader's, but not all of them. I might even make a sequel to this, because I had planned for it to be longer originally, but with the time constraint I wrote this ending instead that would be a little difficult to keep going with in this fanfic, but I can see it being continued in a sequel. It's been a while since I did one of those. =P
> 
> Note: I just realized that it's the Italy brother's birthday today. Huh. Well, funny how something seem to coincide perfectly. :)
> 
>  
> 
> **Disclaimer:  
>  I don't own Hetalia  
> I don't own you  
> but I claim all rights to this story.**


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